


Scandalous

by GeneratorCat



Series: JayTim Week 2017- Valentines Edition [2]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Lingerie, M/M, and acceptance, it's a story about trust and communication, non-sexual lingerie, that's an important distinction, this isn't a story about wearing lingerie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:18:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9657179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneratorCat/pseuds/GeneratorCat
Summary: There he is.Over two hundred pounds of sharpened muscle. Thick, calloused skin. Coarse, wiry, dark hair everywhere. Scars.All on display, and made even more pronounced by the sweet, delicate interruption.And Jason feels…Feels.He feels vulnerable.And silly.And pretty.And ashamed.And strong.And. Right.He feels content.Jason Todd is happy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> JayTim week, day two: lingerie.  
> Massive thanks to masteroftherebels for all of her help on this one <3

Jason stares at the gift box sitting on his bed. 

Not a shopping bag- a gift box. Because the salesperson had assumed Jason was buying it for someone else. A girlfriend, probably. 

Not for himself. 

So she had wrapped it up all nice and pretty, telling Jason how his selection was sure to make someone very happy. 

So far it’s just made him very nervous. 

Jason unties the ribbon, deep red and silky smooth, and it falls away with a whisper. His apartment is still, quiet but for his breathing and the rustle of the lid slipping off, the tissue paper being unwrapped. 

He lifts the panties out of the box. Creamy white and soft and with little peach bows on the sides that’ll sit right over the jut of his hip bones. In the shop, compared to the shelves and racks of other lacy, strappy things, they’d seemed fairly conservative. They look more scandalous now, in the context of Jason’s sleek, grey bedroom. In this place that’s never seen a scrap of lace before. 

Jason drops them back onto the nest of gold tissue paper. He strips, slowly. Jacket first, then shirt and jeans and socks. He takes the time to fold his clothes and set them aside. He’s left in his boxer briefs, and he takes a deep breath before shedding them as well. 

Then Jason is naked, and there’s this sense of potential pushing at him from all sides. Anticipation crawling along his skin.

He slips the panties on, the fabric cool and soft against his legs. They weren’t made to accommodate a body like his. Too snug underneath his balls. But as he pulls them into place around his hips, over his ass, they  _ fit _ . They are where they need to be.  

There’s a full-length mirror in the corner of his room, and he carefully avoids looking at it- at the whole of himself- just yet. He needs to take it in in pieces. 

He looks down, touches the little pink bow over his right hip bone. His cock, even soft, stretches the fabric in the front. Dark hair curls over the top and sides. He twists around to see the white fabric resting on the curve of his lower back, pulled over his ass and scooped around where it meets his thigh.  

Jason smiles. A small, tentative thing that trembles with the erratic beating of his heart and grows, warms, like the happiness flooding his chest. He’s never been so simultaneously elated and terrified. He’s reminded of his first night out as Robin, putting on the suit that wasn’t quite his, but felt as though it should be. Flying over the city and defeating bad guys and shaking in his pixie boots with a huge grin on his face. 

_ Best day of my life. _

He forces himself the two steps to the mirror on legs that want to run, both to and away. He looks up, and then.

There he is. 

Over two hundred pounds of sharpened muscle. Thick, calloused skin. Coarse, wiry, dark hair everywhere. Scars.   

All on display, and made even more pronounced by the sweet, delicate interruption. 

And Jason feels…

Feels. 

He feels vulnerable. 

And silly. 

And pretty.

And ashamed. 

And strong. 

And. Right. 

He feels content. 

Jason Todd is happy.

~

He doesn’t wear them out of the house. 

He just. Can’t.

(He thinks about them, when he’s at the grocery store. When he’s stocking up on bullets. When he’s sitting down at his favorite little diner. He’s thinking about the boxers he’s wearing and how they don’t feel quite right, and how when he gets home he’ll take them off and slip into the new pair of panties he bought yesterday- light blue, thin cotton.)

No one would even know. Logically, he’s aware of that. But it feels like there would be a huge neon sign on his back that says,  _ this man is wearing women’s underwear _ . Everyone around him would  _ know _ , like they could just look at him and  _ see _ .

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. Even if they did know, he wouldn’t care. Their opinions don’t matter. 

The only person whose opinion he cares about is Tim.

He doesn’t wear them when Tim comes over, either. 

~

It takes two weeks for him to try it. 

A quick trip to the corner store to pick up some deodorant. 

Deep purple, satin. He likes the way they slide against the thick denim of his jeans. 

No one gives him a second glance. The cashier doesn’t make an announcement to the entire store. The crowd on the sidewalk doesn’t stop and stare and whisper to each other. 

He walks into his apartment, shopping bag hanging from his fingers, grinning madly. 

~

He opens the door and Tim is there, looking over-worked and lovely. Hair in a messy bun and dark bags under his eyes and a fond, relieved smile. Jason gives him a kiss and Tim goes slack against him with a contented hum. 

They fall onto the couch in a tangle of limbs and Jason presents a bowl of chips, which is happily snatched from his hands. 

Halfway through the movie Tim slips his hand underneath Jason’s shirt and pets the dark, coarse hair on his belly. 

Jason stiffens, glances down to check that his jeans haven’t fallen down too far. It’s fine, though; nothing is showing, and Tim’s hand doesn’t move any lower. 

Tim falls asleep propped against his shoulder. Jason carries him to bed and changes into a pair of boxers before sliding in next to him. 

~

He wants to tell Tim. Or show him. Keeping something from Tim twists him around inside and he can’t get comfortable when they’re together, and he’s miserable because Tim is his safe place, and Jason hasn’t been uneasy around him in years. It reminds him of when they weren’t what they are to each other. When Jason looked at Tim and was instantly on edge, rather than instantly soothed. When Jason didn’t have anybody that he could let his guard down around. He doesn’t want to go back to being wary of everyone. But he is, now. And it hurts. 

Tim isn't a cruel person but Jason thinks about how he might react, of all the ways it could be so, so bad, and that hurts worse. 

~

He buys a pair of stockings. They’re creamy white, to match the first pair of panties he brought home. His legs are wrapped in delicate, fragile fabric up to the middle of his thighs, silky bands at the tops hugging his muscles tightly. Some of his leg hair peeks out through the thin material.

He sits on his bed with his legs stretched out in front of him and just looks. Studies himself and the picture he makes that’s so opposed to the way he usually thinks of himself. The way he presents himself. The way the world sees him. 

(Maybe that’s the problem. Not that Tim won’t like or approve of what he’s doing, but that Tim won’t be able to reconcile these two images and know they’re both Jason. That he won’t love them both. Because Tim loves Jason, as Tim knows him. So what guarantee is there that Tim would love this, that’s so opposite the Jason that Tim knows.)

Jason runs his fingers lightly over his toes, his ankle. Up his sharp calf and over his knee and down his thick, hard thigh. 

It feels wonderful. 

~

There’s a new pair in his drawer- a cheerful, pale yellow with eyelet lace trim.

Jason didn’t buy them. 

~

The faint click of the front door closing sends his heart beating hard and fast; he can feel it down to his fingertips. 

He stands at the kitchen counter, slicing basil leaves for the soup simmering low in the stovetop. 

Two cold hands come to rest on either side of his waist, and he flinches. There’s a soft press of lips to his shoulder. Tim hugs him from behind, molding himself to Jason’s bare back. His pinky finger grazes the lace peeking out from the top of Jason’s pants. Tim smiles into his skin. 

Then he pulls away and tries to taste the soup, and Jason smacks his hand because it isn’t ready yet. 

By the time it is ready, Jason’s heart is calm again. They eat dinner at the table and Tim talks about his day, and Jason doesn’t itch to go put on a shirt. 

~

Tim kneels on the floor next to the bed and looks up, asking. Patient. Loving. 

Jason sets his foot on Tim’s lap. 

Tim places the bunched up stocking over Jason’s toes. Unrolls the black material over his leg, pushing it up slowly and carefully. He tugs it into place at the end. Straightens the little silver bow. 

He smiles up at Jason. 

Jason smiles back and offers his other foot. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sadly, I wasn't able to write a fic for every day in JayTim week. The next one you'll see (hopefully, if I can get it done in time) will be day six.


End file.
